


stars & firelight

by sternfleck



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: (smut happens in ch2), Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Christmas Party, Corporate drama, Established Relationship, M/M, Married Life, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mouth Touching, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, technically it’s secular but tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:01:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28319388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternfleck/pseuds/sternfleck
Summary: “You need to clear your mind. Forget all of that. I can help you.”Ben’s eyes shine, their darkness stained gold with leaping firelight. Ben is sweet, always devoted, gentle with Armitage in spite of his strength, but in this light, Armitage could convince himself that his husband is dangerous. The idea doesn’t make him hesitate. Instead it fills him with a will to let Ben take control tonight, for once.-After a mildly disastrous company holiday party, Ben and Armitage flee to their upstate holiday home to release their tension and watch the winter sky.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	stars & firelight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [surrenderer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surrenderer/gifts).
  * Inspired by [salt air](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25814932) by [surrenderer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surrenderer/pseuds/surrenderer). 



> This first chapter is an introduction to the story, with no smut. The excerpt in the summary happens in chapter two, which is partially written.
> 
> Here we see salt-verse Ben and Armitage a few years older, established in their careers, successful, still married, and still ravenously in love with each other.
> 
> A Christmas present for [surrenderer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surrenderer/pseuds/surrenderer), who has filled my busy and stressful December with memories I will treasure forever. You deserve so much more than this...but instead, you get a small multichap of corporate drama salt-verse smut, an advent calendar of prompts, the promise of future Surprises, and, of course, my devotion.

The night’s impressions bleed into each other—garlands, wreaths, polished floors, hanging lights, gold-rimmed glasses of bubbling wine. It’s too much like the holiday parties of Ben’s youth, when Leia would take him along to Washington’s galas and leave him to his own devices at the side of the room, young and alone.

But Ben isn’t as young now, and Armitage isn’t like Leia, in spite of his easy movement here amongst New York’s elite. Ben’s husband casts glances his way every minute or two, even when Ben is attempting conversation with other guests.

He knows many of the people here from his work with First Order, though his formal contract there ended seven years ago, four years before he married the man who will inherit First Order from Sloane in due time. Armitage still brings Ben into the office occasionally, for help with projects, and simply to include him in the work that Armitage has devoted his life to.

First Order Engineering, Millicent, and Ben. The three points of devotion in Armitage Hux’s life. As Ben glances over the head of the unremarkable man who’s just asked him what he does for a living, he catches his husband’s eye across the room, and marvels all over again that Armitage chose _him_ , keeps choosing him every day. 

“I freelance,” Ben answers brusquely, not bothering to meet the eye of his aspiring conversational partner. “Excuse me. My husband is calling me.”

Armitage isn’t calling, hasn’t even nodded his head or waved an elegant hand to beckon Ben over. But Ben suddenly can’t bear to be apart from him, though a few metres of crowded marble floor are all that separate them from each other.

The crowd parts for him. When he’s at Armitage’s side, on impulse, he takes his husband’s hand. Brings it to his lips.

“So this is Ben,” says the woman Armitage has been talking to, drowning out Armie’s noise of surprise at being kissed. “Finally. Armitage has told me about you. I couldn’t believe anyone would consent to marry him, but you’re a presence that’s hard to refute.”

Armitage laughs, a real, surprising laugh, tinged with the wine he’s been sipping from the flute in his other hand. “Rose,” he splutters. “You thought I was joking? You know Ben exists.” 

“I know now! You keep him hidden away.”

“I hide,” says Ben simply, to take the pressure away from Armie. Armitage squeezes his hand, stroking it with the cold pad of his thumb.

“If you did more with First Order, you’d know these things,” Armie grumbles.

At first, Ben thinks he’s talking to him, and looks at him askance for the baseless criticism. But Armitage is still addressing the small woman called Rose. Ben notices her attire now for the first time. Her dress is a starlit fall of shimmering blue, fitted and pooling at her feet. It’s silky, like something Armie might wear at home, though he’s dressed sharply in a dark suit tonight.

“Sloane didn’t tell you.”

Ben shakes his head clear of thoughts of Armitage in dark blue. Rose’s tone is biting, and Armitage stiffens at his side.

“Paige and I signed the agreement with her yesterday evening,” Rose says. “Otomok Systems is now acquired by First Order Engineering. You can add our solar tech to your little weapons project, Hux.”

Rose pats Armitage’s arm hard enough to make waves in his glass of champagne. The air is tense. Ben waits, poised to defend his husband, though he’s not certain what’s going on. The reverse-engineering of Otomok’s micro solar cell tech has been a pet project of Armitage’s for months now, and he’s almost cracked it. Now this Rose person is saying Sloane has signed to buy Otomok entirely?

After a few seconds, Rose’s face breaks into a grin. “Merry Christmas,” she beams. “I hope I didn’t spoil Rae’s gift for you! You can pretend to be surprised. I can’t believe you didn’t get alerted through your internal networks. You should really check on that. Who knows what else you’re missing inside First Order?”

Ben isn’t sure if he should thank this woman or throttle her, and Armitage seems equally uncertain. In spite of the wine, he’s pale, and his grip on Ben’s hand is tight.

“I will have my staff contact your office,” Armitage says, in his _we’re done here_ tone, the one he’s rarely used with Ben. 

“Talk to Sloane first,” says Rose, stepping away into the crowd. “She had some very good ideas for how we could all work more closely together in the New Year.”

Even in such a striking dress, Rose disappears in seconds into the whirl, as though she was never there. Like the whole conversation was nothing but a strange dream.

Armitage shakes his head, as if to clear it. He wrinkles his nose.

“How is it,” he muses under his breath, “that with the Tico sisters, I’m victorious every time in our business dealings, but come away feeling as though I’ve been positively _bitten_ by them?!”

Ben releases his husband’s hand, only to wrap an arm around his narrow shoulders in consolation. Armitage turns to face him, and loops his free arm around Ben’s waist.

There’s music playing, a soft old-fashioned song from the piano in the corner, but at parties like this one, no one dances. Deals are cut, triumphs celebrated, minor slights brushed under the rug in favour of bringing a strong finish to the business year. Power dynamics fill every interaction with hidden social traps that Ben has never had the patience to navigate. He could boast to any of these people about the work he’s done this year, the places he’s travelled, the important people he’s met. But he’s always hated talking about himself and feeling like he’s on display.

Which is why he leans forward until his forehead touches Armitage’s, like they’re the only two souls in the crowded room, and whispers in the air between them, “You’ve won.”

Armie sways, hand on Ben’s hip, until they’re half-dancing together. His breath tastes like champagne when he replies, bittersweet. “All those months of work to replicate their tech, and Sloane just...bought them.”

“She didn’t know you were so far along with your design, did she? Think how much more you get now. All their solar advances. You can practically move out of weapons tech and into energy.”

“Your family would like that, wouldn’t they?” Armitage says dryly, leaning closer to Ben in an affectionate way. “Environmentally friendly. Clean. Perhaps Rey would stop protesting our events.”

“She’s probably outside tonight with a cardboard sign,” Ben answers, though this event is at a private home in Connecticut, hours away from Rey’s Brooklyn domain. 

“She and Rose would get along.” Armitage pulls back, wrinkling his nose. “The thorns in our sides. May they never meet, for our sake.”

“For our sake,” Ben echoes.

It’s all he can do to keep from kissing his husband, here, deeply, in front of everyone. Armitage is slender and warm in his arms, and Ben knows, _knows_ he’s wearing something special under his suit. Ben has never been known for his self-control, but if tonight is an occasion to celebrate the year’s accomplishments, it occurs to him that he really ought to congratulate himself on interacting publicly with his husband every day _without_ giving into the impulse to ravish him as they complete their ordinary daily tasks.

“You’re giving me that look,” Armie observes. “Is it time to leave?”

Ben tries to answer, but the noise that comes out of his throat is closer to a growl.

Armitage brings his mostly-empty champagne glass to his lips, hiding his coy smile as he drains it. With his other hand, he strokes Ben’s throat, up to his jaw, brushing two fingertips across Ben’s lips. It’s all Ben can do to keep from opening his mouth for them. But they’re in public, in the company of many people of consequence for Armitage’s career. For that reason only, he holds back.

“Well, then. I, for one, feel quite tired of being put on the spot tonight. Who knows what other Christmas surprises may be spoiled if we stay?” Armitage’s mouth is disdainful, but his eyes are affectionate where they meet Ben’s.

“Let’s go,” Ben manages. “Home.”

Ben thinks of the long road, the hired car taking them north to the house where they’ll spend the next week in silent peace. They already dropped their bags and Millicent off there in the afternoon, leaving the city in time to have a few hours to settle in before the party. This is their second home, a refuge deep in the forest, a place where they can hide away with only each other.

Tonight, it’s what they need. Ben can see in Armitage’s face that he’s still upset to have been left uninformed about Sloane’s plans for First Order and Otomok, when he’s the heir apparent to the company leadership as a whole. Sloane has mentored Armitage, stuck up for him even when the nastier board members insinuated there were better choices. She’s been more than a boss to him—practically family. Armitage’s only family.

Sloane would have talked with Armitage, consulted with him. There must be some hidden detail, alternate explanation, or story behind the apparent story. But Ben doesn't have the insider knowledge to figure this thing out. He’s better at protecting his husband with a fierce will, and soothing him with touches and kisses.

“Home,” Armitage murmurs.

Armitage hesitates, like there’s something more he wants to say. His variable eyes are green tonight, sparkling from the festive lights hung along the ceiling in swells and spirals and filaments of gold. There’s a blush on his cheeks from the wine, and in spite of his pout of dismay at the night’s events, he looks no less beautiful than if he’d received the unequivocally good news Rose Tico seemed to believe she was delivering.

Ben slides his hand up Armitage’s back, still resisting the temptation to kiss him. To Ben's surprise, it’s his husband who leans in.

But Armitage doesn’t kiss him. Instead he brushes the hair back from the shell of Ben’s ear, and speaks in a whisper.

“I’m home when I’m with you,” he says. “Nevertheless. Off we go.”

Ben’s surprise must show on his face, because when Armitage pulls back to look at him, hand under Ben’s chin, he laughs. Even though they’re in a crowded room, it’s his very fondest laugh, the one Armitage saves for when they’re alone together.

It's impossible to say who first takes the other's hand. As they execute their exit, make their few crucial goodbyes, and wait in the cold between the porch's garlanded columns for the car to swing into the gravel carriage sweep, they never once, even for a moment, let go.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays, friends. You can follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/sternfleck) and [tumblr](https://sternfleck.tumblr.com/).


End file.
